


Syncopation

by misbegotten



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-08
Updated: 2015-09-08
Packaged: 2018-04-19 18:29:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 575
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4756625
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misbegotten/pseuds/misbegotten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This dance was one with which he was familiar. One step forward, two to the side, and repeat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Syncopation

It was foolish, really, for the captain of the Enterprise to indulge himself. The fact that the _chufa_ of the Morenzi invited Picard to learn their ceremonial sparring dance did not mean that he had to accept. The fact that Picard took a blow to the head in the course of the proceedings was just bad luck. Being knocked unconscious was simply undignified. The resulting headache... well, the burdens of command were heavy indeed.

Jean-Luc opened his eyes warily, but to his relief he was not greeted with an irate Chief Medical Officer, amused First Officer, or even a single embarrassed nurse. The less than comfortable bed slab confirmed that he was in Sickbay; Beverly joked that she kept the beds hard to encourage quick recoveries. From above him the quiet bee-bump of the vitals scanner told him that he was alive. He started to do a physical inventory from toes upward when he abruptly recognized the tune that had only dimly registered in his subconscious. Beverly was humming.

It was a lullaby, something her grandmother had taught her as a healing song that she had in turn sung to Wesley when he was a baby. Jean-Luc had caught whispered strains of it when she stood, otherwise still and absolute, over Jack's body. The time Wesley was in Sickbay overnight during the worst of the Deruvian flu he had sat with her, and she hummed it against his shoulder as he carded his fingers through her hair and willed her to sleep. It was a gift for those she loved. It was a song for her family.

Beverly finished the verse and, without raising her eyes from the paperwork she was studying, said wryly, "Your attempt at stealth is useless, Captain. Your heart rate changed when you woke up."

Jean-Luc waved a hand in a desultory fashion. "At your convenience, Doctor. I was simply enjoying a rejuvenating nap."

She grinned and tossed her paperwork aside. "Hm," she said, noncommittally. "If you'd like some more sleep, I can prescribe a hypospray." She was already checking his vitals, however, and quickly moved on to his pupil reaction. "You seem to be fine, despite your little nap. I would recommend that you abstain from dancing for the next week or so, however."

"It was more like fencing than dancing," he protested. She closed her tricorder, done with her examination, but he grabbed her hand before she could retreat. "And after your medical restriction ends?"

Her fingers fluttered in his grasp. This dance was one with which he was familiar. One step forward, two to the side, and repeat. With the echo of her lullaby still on her lips, he thought perhaps she was ready for a change.

She didn't pull away. "What did you have in mind?"

His nap _had_ been rejuvenating. And emboldening. "Dinner, dancing, era of your choosing?"

A soft, secretive smile crossed her face. "A week from today, Holodeck 2." She leaned forward and brushed her lips against his. "And now, Captain, you are cleared for duty. The Morenzian ambassador sent an enormous ceremonial headdress as an apology, and nobody can get Will to stop wearing it."

He chuckled as he swung his legs off the bed. "Duty calls."

Just before he exited Sickbay, Beverly called to him. "Jean-Luc? You'll probably want to bring your sword with you next week."

Jean-Luc rubbed his hands together in satisfaction. A woman after his own heart. As always.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written June 2009.


End file.
